


Vintage

by silverwishus



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Bratva Oliver Queen, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 09:26:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7839424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverwishus/pseuds/silverwishus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since taking over his father's operations Bratva captain Oliver Queen has developed a reputation as a man not to be messed with, a reputation that has only grown since the presumed murder of his sister two years before. So when he summons a two-bit Las Vegas wannabe gangster to a meeting in order to confront him about a series of seemingly random attacks on the wider Bratva organisation, he expects compliance and capitulation before sending the man home in a pine box as a warning to others.  Instead he gets a tiny blond emissary bearing an offer that could get him back the thing he wants most, but only if he agrees to participate in scheme that could get them all killed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vintage

**Author's Note:**

> My first post so I would love some feedback ... perhaps people are over Bratva stories? I'm getting used to the tag/warning thing so if anyone feels I have not warned for something I should have please advise and I'm happy to add/change. There is a bit of implied violence in this chapter. If there is interest to see more of this story, please let me know. Thanks!

_A pleasant location for a beat-down._

Oliver Queen found the thought oddly pleasing as the town car pulled up outside the main restaurant building. The vineyard was less than an hour out of Starling, quiet, private, but enough tourists milling around between the cellar door tastings and the restaurant that the meeting would not be overly conspicuous.Enough machinery to explain away any sudden noises and enough side doors and outbuildings to offer discrete alternate exits if required.A good choice for the type of meeting he was about to have, the type where there was a possibility one of the parties would be leaving feet first.And an excellent restaurant to boot. Now that he thought about it, he was surprised it had been so long between visits.

He looked at his companions.“Wilson, you stay with the car,” he said.“Harper, with me.”

Both men nodded, the younger man opening his own door and walking round the back of the vehicle to take up position to Oliver’s left as they headed across the gravel drive to the entrance.

Inside, they let their eyes adjust as they waited for the floor manager to come and greet them, threading her way through the tables.

“Good morning gentlemen,” she said with a smile. “Reservation under…?”

“Queen” he supplied. “I’m meeting someone.”The girl was less than twenty, he guessed.Younger than his sister would be, at any rate. Pretty, or would be when she grew into her own skin a little more. Then the thought that he’d had such a thought made him feel tired.He sensed Roy standing a little straighter at his side and realised that although the girl was still smiling at him – she obviously knew who would be paying the bill – she kept glancing towards the younger man.He smirked, in part to cover his annoyance _._ Sure, taking over his fathers’ operations had aged him, but he was still a long way from dead.He liked to think the women he saw when he had time would attest to that.

“The table…?”he prompted.

“Right this way Sir,” the girl collected herself, leading them towards the back of the restaurant and through a large door.“Your table is downstairs in the private tasting cellar as per your email request, and your date is already here.”

“I didn’t reque … sorry, date?”The girl gave him a slightly puzzled look as she led them down the wide stone steps to a large wooden door. “Is that not correct?”She seemed nervous now. “I’m sure they were the instructions we received.I can have you moved if you prefer…”

“I’m sure it will be fine,” he said, glancing at Roy, who raised an eyebrow in response.They were supposed to be meeting with a relatively small-time con from Vegas, a man who had some vague, low-level ties to the mob down that way but had never really had cause to come to Bratva attention until recently.Certainly not what he would have described as a date.Perfunctory, perhaps.Oliver could have sent his second to take care of things, and almost had, but he had to admit to having been intrigued by the picture his advisors had painted, of a man no one had given much thought to in the past, and he was curious enough to see this wannabe for himself.And it didn’t hurt to keep his hand in.

They followed the girl through the door into a dimly lit stone anteroom, where wine racks lined the walls.She stopped and indicated a stone arch on the other side of the room, through which a soft flicker – _candlelight?_ – could be seen.What the hell were they walking into?

“Please go through,” the girl said.“As you requested the wine has been poured but we will give you half an hour before we come to take your orders.” With a last glance at Roy she turned and headed back towards the stairs.

Oliver moved toward the arch, Roy at his shoulder.He heard voices in hushed tones, one deep, the other much lighter, followed by a breathy laugh.Intrigued now, he stepped through the arch into a narrow room that was easily five times as long as it was wide.Like the anteroom, the stone walls were lined with racks, hundreds of wine bottles covered with varying layers of dust.In different circumstances he would have been drawn straight to the shelves, but instead his eyes flew to the other end of the room, to a table set with starched linens and silverware glinting in the candlelight.

A large man in a suit was leaning against the table, blocking Oliver’s view of the other occupant.The man stood – _not large, huge_ – and any trace of a smile was erased as he quickly placed himself between the table and the newcomers.

The muscle of the operation, Oliver surmised. He’d seen plenty of it over the years, and wasn’t worried – he’d taken on bigger, and won. He kept his face impassive. Over his shoulder he sensed Roy drawing himself up to his full height, refusing to be intimidated. Good lad.

A soft voice came from behind the man.“It’s fine, John.”

The man called John stepped aside and back slightly, clasping his hands lightly in front of him in classic bodyguard pose, giving space but remaining close enough to intervene in an instant. Still staring at the table Oliver blinked, lips parting slightly before he remastered his expression.

“Is this supposed to be some kind of a joke?” he asked.“Is Kuttler actually trying to insult me?”

The petite blond smiled slightly, her eyes unblinking behind square-rimmed glasses. Something about those eyes tugged at the recesses of his memory, but he couldn’t place it and let the thought go.He was still taken aback that a relative nobody had not only refused to come in person when Oliver had called a meeting with him, he had sent _a woman_ in his place. In the Bratva women did not take meetings.They sure as hell didn’t negotiate deals.Sending a woman in your stead when you knew there was a good chance you wouldn’t walk out of a meeting alive told Oliver everything he needed to know about the man’s cowardice, if nothing else.

“No joke,” the woman said, a note of seriousness in her voice that belied her small stature. She appeared completely unfazed by his reaction, as though it was a routine experience and one she had entirely expected.“And I would suggest you think about your next words very carefully, unless _you_ are trying to insult _me_.I’m sure the late Mrs Queen instilled in you the appropriate way to speak to a lady, did she not?”To the side of her, the man called John crossed his arms, the flex of his muscles showing how ready he was to step in should any defence of the woman’s honour be required.

Oliver was about to shoot back a retort at the implied criticism of his mother, but the woman licked her pink lips and leaned forward slightly, her forearms resting on the table as she looked him straight in the eye.The movement gave him the slightest hint of cleavage behind her otherwise conservatively buttoned pink shirt. He wasn’t sure if it was intentional, but the movement had him slightly off-kilter, and he suddenly found it hard not let his eyes drop. _Hell, this whole thing is off-kilter_.He wasn’t used to being the one on the back foot, the one without all the relevant information, and he wasn’t particularly enjoying it. As if she could sense his discomfort, the woman continued on before he could say anything further.

“Besides, if you recall, you requested the meet with us” she said, in a tone that suggested _she_ was doing _him_ a favour by coming all this way, and completely ignored the fact that he was a captain in the Russian mafia, a rank which gave him the leverage to call a meeting with just about anyone who operated south of the law, and hell rain down on them if they dared refuse.She waved a hand at the seat opposite her. “So I suggest you swallow your outdated notions and take a seat, Mr Queen.We have much to discuss.”

Oliver stared at her.She had balls, that much was clear.“Why should I speak with you?” he asked.“I requested the attendance of Noah Kuttler. I don’t even know who you are.”

“Smoak” she said, looking him straight in the eye.“Felicity Smoak.Noah Kuttler is my father.”

She looked away briefly, then held his gaze once more. “I use my mother’s name.”

Intrigued now, he stepped forward, pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down.

“So, why isn’t Kuttler here?Why did he send his daughter to meet with someone who could have her killed at a moment’s notice?Does he think I will go easier on you than I would on him?”

Felicity cleared her throat.“He meant no disrespect,” she began. “Unfortunately he is … unable to travel.”

Oliver looked at her. “So the rumours are true, then?”

“That depends on the rumour you’ve heard”.

“About 24 months ago there was a factory explosion near Las Vegas.”

She nodded.“That was widely reported.”

“Less widely reported was that the explosion occurred during a meeting between the representatives of various Vegas interests … Kuttler was there, he survived, but was badly injured.”

“Yes.”

“I’m told there was a suggestion he might die, but I have to confess at the time I never even heard his name mentioned in the reports I got, because …”

“Because my father was a minor player, he wasn’t Bratva, and there were several more important people killed that night.”Felicity finished. She shrugged.

“I understand.You had more important ramifications to work through.Even though Vegas isn’t the Bratva’s core territory, no one’s territory is limited by state boundaries in this day and age.And what affects one group of … _businessmen_ has the potential to affect all of them in some way.”

If the woman was hurt by the deliberate lack of concern he demonstrated for her father she gave no indication of it.

“Indeed.So, assuming I accept injury to him rather than insult to me as the reason your father declined to meet meet with me, and I agree to discuss things with you, do you know why you are here?”

Felicity raised her glass and closed her eyes as she took a sip.She rolled it around her tongue before opening her eyes again and placing the glass back on the table, her fingers curled around the stem.

“I’m here because your people have finally made some connections between some events that have been puzzling you for the last couple of years,”she said.“Would you like me to name them?”

“Go ahead.”

“Sticking with the Bratva, as that’s apparently your chief concern, in the last two years there have been three major families go under, and four minor.And a mid-level supply chain out of Ecuador.”The woman spoke calmly, but Oliver noticed she was twisting the stem of her glass between her fingers, the first sign she might feel anything other than completely confident.

“In terms of the majors, the Feds got Boreshev and Petrov.It would appear that Boreshev had a turncoat, one of his accountants delivered up a stack of info even the feds couldn’t ignore.Similar thing happened to two of the minors, Kroger and Bellisev, less than a month apart and then Petrov fell as collateral damage – they were closely bound.Children married and that sort of thing.”

Oliver kept his face impassive. He hadn’t been particularly close to either of the families, although he’d been to a couple of the weddings, when it had been useful to put in an appearance.Weddings made good cover for unofficial discussions between families.

“And then there’s the other minors.Two years ago Andersson’s drug imports were suffering.They found out their information systems were being hacked by Carlos’ people.Carlos denied it, but apparently there was a rock solid trail, it started a war, and they pretty much took each other out.”

Oliver remembered when Carlos had come to him asking for help. At the time they had had a number of operations on the go and the assessment had been that this was a minor scuffle between two minor players and to be honest, Oliver had thought that a bit of attrition in the south west wouldn’t be a bad thing.He hadn’t entirely believed the man who stood before him, claiming not to have had any part in the attacks on Andersson’s networks.Not that he would have been any more supportive of Andersson, had he been the one to come knocking on Oliver’s door. He wasn’t particularly fond of the networks whose primary income was drugs – too much preying on people not in a position to help themselves, although he couldn’t deny they were a money earner for those who were happy to go there.He had been prepared to let it ride and see who came out on top. When they both went down he wondered if that had been a wise decision.It was that implosion that had started him looking for common threads between all the changes.In the entirety of Brava’s stateside operations the changes had made a relatively small wave, but enough of one to cause some talk about changes afoot.

“You said three majors?“he asked.“Who was the third?”

“Michaelsson”

“Lars Michaelsson?He died in a plane crash.”

“The accident was unrelated, but the timing presented an opportunity. His 2IC was the pilot, his head of enforcement was on board as well.That pretty much wiped out his top level, as of course you know.As you would also know, it would not be uncommon in those circumstances for a turf war to ensue between those who could consider themselves contenders for succession. But before that could happen his finances were wiped out, his laundering operations were absorbed by others, and his network was… dismantled.”

The woman tilted her face to the side and studied him for a moment.

“You hadn’t actually made the connection with Michaelsson, had you?Your people are … even less effective than I gave them credit for.”

Oliver went to speak, but Felicity motioned with her hand for him to be silent. 

“To answer your original question, Mr Queen, I am here today because two months ago your people came to you and said they had uncovered some information that suggested all of these events had a common thread.I don’t presume to know how you conduct your internal business but I do assume you instructed them to keep digging and get their ducks in a row, so to speak.They came back to you several weeks later with several conveniently found documents.Documents that appeared to have been well hidden, such that they might have been inadvertently missed by someone who had otherwise covered their tracks very well.Those clues pointed to only one commonality between them all. One person who may have benefited directly or indirectly, but certainly monetarily, from all of the above events, and that person was Leon Kuttler.And now you would like some answers from Mr Kuttler, so that you can determine if he just got lucky, or if he might possibly be useful to you in some way, or if he somehow presents some kind of challenge to your organisation, in which case you are probably intending to have him killed. Am I correct, Mr Queen?”

He nodded.That was indeed almost exactly how it had happened.He said nothing, but the fact that the woman could recite the chain of events so confidently was cause for concern. This was an angle he had not considered prior to this conversation. He began to re-evaluate the information that had been presented to him over the past few months.

“Tell me, did it at any point seem strange to you that after months of nothing your people suddenly started to find a little trail of something?” she asked.

Oliver ran his hand over his face. He had assumed his people had been doing their jobs.They were good. That’s why they worked for him. He had made a point of surrounding himself with the best people he could find for any given task.It was a trait that had served him well both as a captain and in business.He had had no reason to think they were anything other than at the top of their game.Until now, possibly.

“So, what are you saying?” he asked. “That your father wanted us to find that information?Is he trying to threaten my organisation in some way?”

“Not everything is about threatening someone, Mr Queen.Some things are just about getting someone’s attention.”

He smirked.“Are you trying to tell me this, this _charade_ is all about needing to feel important?Does your father think he wants into the big leagues?”

The woman shook her head.

“I’m saying that this is about us needing to have a discussion with you, and needing to do it in a way that would fly under the radar to outside eyes, and offer an opportunity for us to discuss certain key … _issues_ quietly.”

“So you’ve spent a couple of years showing that you can infiltrate the dealings of certain Bratva members, all for the purpose of getting _my_ attention, and going about it in such a way that if anyone finds out about this meeting, you are prepared to look like you were receiving end of a dressing down, in order to have such a discussion?”

This time the woman nodded.

“That would seem an incredibly elaborate scheme. So what, pray tell, would those issues be?”

“As much as it pains me to admit it, some things can’t be done remotely, Mr Queen.We need access to something, and that access can only be had in person.And we need you to get us that access.”

“Ok, I’ll bite, access to what?” said, raising his own glass to his lips.

“The gathering of the wolves.”

It was all Oliver could do not to choke.He put his glass down and stared at her.Then he threw his head back and laughed.

“Are you serious?Really?Your father wants access to the wolves?You must be joking.”

Felicity remained silent.

“Your father wants me to get him into the biggest gathering of Bratva members, in Russia no less, so he can access some … thing that you haven’t yet explained.You were giving a good show, I grant you, but with that one request he has shown that he has no idea what it means to play in the big leagues.This isn’t a weekend in the Hamptons, and you don’t bring friends along.It’s Captains, and their wives, and a select personal security and advisor detail to make sure no one stabs you in the back.And I mean that in both the literal and metaphorical senses.And even if I were to entertain something so utterly stupid, which I would not, it should be obvious that if your father can’t even travel here from Vegas, there is no way he could make it to Moscow.”

The woman arched an eyebrow.

Oliver stared at her. She could not be suggesting what he thought she was suggesting? That he should take … _her_?

He shook his head and pushed his chair back from the table, glancing at the woman’s bodyguard as he did so. The bodyguard was impassive, but Oliver could see the readiness in his stance. He turned back to the woman. “Your father doesn’t want to meet with the wolves so much as throw his daughter to them. Go home and tell daddy that he’s lucky you aren’t coming back to him in pieces. You can also tell him, from me, that as of today I will let it be known that he is cut off from all Bratva business interests.Let him pester the Italians or Triad or someone who doesn’t mind a useless lap dog worrying at their heels. If he comes anywhere near any of our interests again, he will not get off with another warning.If he sends his daughter to do his negotiating again, you will both bear the consequences.Good day to you, Ms Smoak.”

He motioned to Roy and made to leave the table.The woman held up her hand.

“We are not finished, Mr Queen”.

He snorted. “Yes we are, sweetheart.It was a nice while it lasted.”He moved towards the door.“Sorry I can’t stay for lunch.It’s many years since I’ve eaten here, but as I recall the ragout used to be excellent.”

Roy fell into step behind him, but as they reached the door the woman spoke again.

“Then I guess you wouldn’t be interested in what I have to say about Thea.”

Oliver stopped dead, shoulders instantly rigid. Then he pivoted on his heel and crossed the room back to her in a few quick strides, his face barely controlled fury. The woman’s bodyguard reacted swiftly, stepping in front of the table just has Oliver reached it.He held his hand out, an inch from Oliver’s chest, silently warning him to go no further. Oliver glared.

“Don’t you _dare_ invoke my sister’s name in your foolish games,” he hissed.

The woman hadn’t moved from her seat.Now she reached out across the table and and touched her bodyguard’s outstretched arm, drawing it downward so she could look Oliver in the eyes again.

“I said before that this isn’t a game, Mr Queen. I am capable of many things but I do not lie.We can give you everything you’ve been looking for for the last two years.”

He stared at her.“My sister is dead.”

She shrugged, but when she spoke, her voice was soft. “And yet I know you have your people continuing to search, on the quiet, just in case,” she said. “You don’t want it to be true.You haven’t given up hope, I can see it in your eyes.”

“There’s been no evidence,” Oliver said.

Instead of answering, the woman opened the envelope next to her and pulled out an eight by ten photograph, laying it face up on the table and pushing it towards him.

Eyes locked on hers, Oliver reached around the bodyguard, and picked the photo up. He glanced at it and his eyes widened. Against his volition, his hand trembled. Oliver did not consider himself a man prone to shock, but his chest constricted and he could hear the blood rushing in his ears. The picture was slightly grainy, taken in dim lighting, and evidently cut from security camera footage.It depicted a bar, with rows of drinks on mirrored shelves behind it.There was a bartender, half out of shot on the right, and two men in front of the bar, with the leg of another patron protruding into the shot from stage left.Oliver registered these details in a split second.But what held his gaze was the girl on the bar.Barely dressed, in a just a miniskirt and bra, she lay across the bar in front of the men with her hands cuffed above her head, tethered to the ceiling above the bar by a chain.Her ankles were similarly tied.Her hair was long now, and she looked thinner. Her face was turned partially away from the camera and tucked against her arm, like she was trying to hide in the only way still available to her given her restraints.But Oliver knew that profile as well as he knew his own.

Thea.

“How…?”

“Your sister is alive, Mr Queen,” the woman said, her tone brisk again.Back to business. 

She took another photograph from the envelope, and another.She placed them side by side on the table.

Oliver looked at the bodyguard and motioned towards the chair.The big man nodded and stepped aside.Oliver sat heavily.

He put the first photo down, and leant forward to examine the others.

The second shot was a close up of Thea’s face, this time turned slightly more towards the camera.It was unmistakably her.The quality wasn’t perfect but even so he could see that her eyes looked deadened.The third shot was taken from further back again, similar to the first.But this time one of the men was resting his large hand on Thea’s bare thigh.

Oliver snarled and grabbed at the nearest thing to his hand, flinging his wine glass to shatter against the wall.The bodyguard was back in an instant, this time standing next to the woman with his hand in front of her protectively.Just as quickly, Roy was at Oliver’s shoulder.

“Where did you get these?” he roared.

Felicity flinched, but didn’t move.

Oliver closed his eyes, and forcibly drew air into his lungs.In, and out.In, and out.He opened his eyes again and looked at the woman who seemingly held all the cards.

“Where did you get these?” he asked again, more measured now, quietly,fury kept under tight control.

“We are well aware of the stakes, Mr Queen. For us, and for you.We know who has your sister, and we know where they have her. We have found the traces you and your people have been unable to find. We can give you the information you’ve been searching for for two years without success.We can help each other, Mr Queen.”

He stared at her.Could this be real?Two years since Thea had been taken from outside her club, leaving a slew of slaughtered bodyguards, a blood-filled alleyway, and not a single shred of evidence in her wake. Two years of nothing. Two years of everyone telling him to give up and accept the inevitable, that Thea was dead, and he had failed at the one thing he promised his parents he would protect most fiercely after they were gone.

And this woman, this tiny blond … _bitch_ , sat in front of him like Thea’s life was a chip to be bargained with.

He was speechless.

“We are willing to trade that information for your assistance, Mr Queen.”

She picked up her menu and began to peruse it.

“Now, don’t you think that’s worth a little bit more of your time?”


End file.
